Rewriting Destiny
by UniquexCorn
Summary: In a world where tattoos bring soulmates together, people are happy at the assurance of someone destined entirely for them. But not Melinda May. Melinda May never liked rules. She wants her mark removed because she's in love with someone who isn't her soulmate.
1. Chapter 1

_"You remove your tattoo because you hate the idea of someone dictating who you can be with for the rest of your life and the person who's removing it happens to be your soulmate and they're torn between letting you know and just not bringing it up because you kind of went there because you didn't want a soulmate and vice versa."_

There's a term here that I think isn't fairly common, so I think I'll define it beforehand.

 _ **trainer** :_ "a class of aircraft designed specifically to facilitate flight training of pilots and aircrews" (from wikipedia)

* * *

Melinda May never liked rules. Well, in a sense, she liked them, but she's always thought that they were meant to be broken. She liked how it pushed people into order, but she took it upon herself to learn them well enough so she can know when to bend them. Sometimes (okay, most times) she even enjoyed it.

As a kid, she had stayed past her bedtime to clean her figure skates, trying as best as her eagle night light would allow her to see. She polished them with the excitement of a twelve year-old going on her first competition. And one wintry night before that, when her parents were asleep, her neighbors caught her sneaking out of the house to practice on their pond.

When she eventually grew out of the figure skates, she decided that flying would be better than gliding. She exchanged the wide ice skating rink with the confined comfort of a cockpit. Going to flight school, she never changed. She still snuck out at night, but this time it was to take one of the trainers on joyrides. She found the night sky relaxing. She liked being close to the stars, too.

She's had the best fun during her younger days. She was never the subject of suspicion whenever there were elaborate pranks around the school. The quiet one always went unnoticed. She got away with most things, and she usually did it with a subtle smirk on her face.

Now, besides being one of the youngest, she's also one of the best pilots in the Air Force. She's successful, accomplished, respected. She couldn't ask for more. That is, until she meets the love of her life, Andrew Garner.

You see, she couldn't just throw herself in his arms. There were rules. Each person had a unique tattoo somewhere on their body. Well... Almost unique. The tattoo would be an exact same match with another person. That person would be their soulmate. She was in love with Andrew, and Andrew was in love with her. But the marks on their bodies couldn't be any more different.

That's when she found herself calling for an appointment for a laser tattoo removal. Melinda May never liked rules, anyway.

* * *

Her hair is up in a ponytail and she's wearing a loose grey shirt with pants that are even darker. She goes up to the reception desk and confirms her appointment. The receptionist, a doe-eyed young lady in a flower dress, politely asks her to sit in the waiting area.

When her name is called, she stands and fixes her shirt before she enters the little clinic. There is a man with his back to her, and the sound of rubber gloves slapping against skin is unmistakably heard. The man is wearing scrubs underneath a lab coat, and before she even attempts to imagine what he looks like, he turns to face her.

"So, what is it? A drunken tattoo?" he jokes. He has an adorable, droopy smile along with warm, kind eyes that she imagines could see right through to everybody.

She doesn't know how to respond, being in her situation, so she huffs out a breath of passable laughter instead.

"Doctor Coulson," he nods at her as he introduces himself.

"Melinda May," she reaches her hand out and offers him a handshake. He simply raises both his hands, reminding her that he already has gloves on. She notices when his eyes squint at the marks on her wrist, so she raises her outstretched hand even higher for him to see. They were two eagles, flying side by side, somewhere above where her pulse should be.

"Actually, I want this removed," she says it like she's never been so sure of anything in her life.

The doctor's brows furrow, and she sees his adam's apple drop lower as he seems to force himself to swallow. His hands turn into fists before he opens them again and reaches out to examine the tattoo, and he cradles her hand like it's the most delicate thing in the world. His thumb traces along the marks and she doesn't notice the shivers that travelled down her spine until they were released as a heavy breath.

"Well then," he smiles and it wasn't like before. This time, his mouth is a tight line and the light tone in his voice was gone. "We haven't got all day," He leads her to the examination chair in the middle of the room. He adjusts his gloves, raising them higher up his hands before he picks up the instrument that would shoot lasers into her skin.

He explains to her the procedure – how the laser works to remove the tattoo pigments, the risks, possible side effects, and aftercare. He also tells her that she'll need to come back for more sessions in order for the tattoo to be fully removed.

"Where did you get this tattoo?" they're in the middle of the procedure and he's the first to talk.

"I've had it since I was little," she shrugs.

"So this is your..."

"My soulmate mark," she finishes his sentence after he trails off, seemingly unable to find his words.

"Why do you want it removed?" his otherwise welcoming eyes have become unreadable to her.

"I just don't like being dictated what to do or how to feel about someone," she smiles a rebellious smile, and he returns it, albeit reservedly.

"What happens if you meet your soulmate?" his voice is lower now, but he's looking directly into her eyes. She somehow feels and resists the strong urge to touch him. "What if they never believe you then?"

"I already have someone else," she says confidently. "Why do you keep asking me these questions? Are you my soulmate?" she teases him.

He laughs, and because she doesn't know him that well, she brushes off the assumption that it sounded like a nervous laugh. It's perfectly plausible to also assume that that was how he normally laughed.

"No, of course not," he returns his focus on the two – well right now, one – eagle. "Look at this little guy all alone now. Hate to know your soulmate would be left just like that," he keeps their conversation joke-filled but there was something heavy in his tone. She tilts her head to the side, suddenly curious about the man so carefully removing what was supposed to be the dictator of her destiny.

"I'm sure they'll find someone," she fills with warmth as she says it, because she knows the experience personally. She's deeply in love with Andrew. She knows what she's leaving behind. Both of them do. But they're both so sure that the love between them is worth losing their own soulmates over. Besides, other people have done it. In their world, some soulmates even knew each other, but chose to be with other people instead.

"I don't know if I should tell you this," she continues and she's aware that she's gushing. "But I think he's proposing. When I was changing our sheets, I found a ring under the mattress."

The doctor's hand, the one holding the device, stops and hovers above her wrist. He shifts himself uncomfortably and avoids her gaze.

"Something wrong, Doc?" she suddenly finds herself concerned about this man she's just met, because somehow, after feeling excited about the prospect of marrying Andrew, she's struck with the feeling of loss.

"Nothing," he smiles and shakes his head. "I'm happy for you," he regards her for the longest time – those gentle blue eyes appearing more genuine compared to the last half hour they've been together. He continues his work and congratulates her, tells her that the man she'll soon be marrying must feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

When they're finished, he puts an ice pack on her wrist while reminding her of their next session together. The tattoo is already fading, and she's ecstatic about not being restricted to wait for someone she might not even meet.

"So," he removes the ice pack and gazes at the faded birds on her hand. "Is your soon-to-be-fiance getting his mark removed too?" He stands and writes a prescription for an antibiotic cream, and adds a little note at the bottom telling her that she'll need to protect it with sunblock whenever she goes outside.

"He did keep talking about it," she nods her head as if she's just remembered it. "Maybe I can convince him."

"Well, I'd be glad to help," he says. He crosses his hands behind his back, reaches again for his right hand and pulls the glove tighter up his arm. He then soothes his thumb over a spot just above his pulse.

"Thanks, Doc," she smiles at him and he smiles back, a gentle smile that for some reason overwhelmed her entire being and made her heart ache.

"Just doing my job," his exhale is visible in the way his shoulders and chest heaved downward. "And you can call me Phil," he finally adds, and she thinks that she's heard those words before, but they were just said differently this time. It sounded like letting go. Like goodbye.

She picks up her bag and nods another thank you at him, reaching for the doorknob. With her back to him, she hears him take a step forward. Something inside of her wanted to stop right there, but something inside of him might have said the same thing. What was she anticipating? Knowing he isn't moving anymore, and not hearing any more footsteps toward her, she exits the door. Once she's out, she can't help but feel that a part of her was left in that room, like she became whole when she entered and another part went missing as soon as she stepped out.

From the inside of the room, Phil forces his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. He's alone now. He removes his gloves and stares at his wrist, sees for the millionth time the two eagles flying together. All the times he's seen it before this day, he was the most hopeful man. Today was different. Today he met _her_. Melinda May. He thought it would be the happiest day of his life. But today, today was the day he found out that his soulmate loved someone else.

He touches the eagles again, his fingertips ghosting over each one, just as he did with Melinda May.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm planning to write a second part with a happier ending (maybe an alternate one or just a continuation). I'm just not sure if it'll be any sooner, but I really want to, so I probably will. Can't bring myself to end this here because 4x15 also left us hanging lol.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is an alternate ending relative to the first one. It's about what would have happened if Melinda found out that she and Phil were soulmates. If you went here expecting a continuation, I'm really, really sorry.**

 **This is told in Phil's POV, because I thought it would be nice if we got to see how he felt during the first chapter.**

* * *

Phil Coulson was preparing for his next session. Raina steps into the room and hands him a clipboard. He thanks his receptionist, then proceeds to skim through the patient information. Melinda May, mid-20's. Air Force pilot. Laser tattoo removal? He's heard amusing regret stories about tattoos, but boy he _really_ can't wait to hear _this_ one.

He was putting on his gloves when he hears the door open. When he turns, he is greeted with the sight of what he could easily describe as the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on. She had her dark hair up in a ponytail, her bangs framing her face and drawing attention to what he considers were eyes with a mischievous gleam in them.

"So, what is it?" he attempts to break the ice. "A drunken tattoo?"

She huffs. He's fairly sure that he's just made her laugh, but also based on her reaction, he's fairly sure that it's not a drunken tattoo.

He introduces himself, and she does the same. He doesn't tell her that she doesn't have to introduce herself – he reads every clipboard before each session, like a good doctor should. When she offered him a handshake, he also doesn't tell her how his heart jumped up his throat, recognizing what he thinks is a familiar mark on her wrist.

She tells him that she wants it gone. For a moment, he felt the whole world crashing in on him. But is it really her? He isn't even certain yet. He swallows the forming knowledge about their connection, gulping it down some place where he hopes it wouldn't come back up. He has to know for sure before telling her.

He balls his hands into fists so as to resist the urge to touch her. He pronounces himself weak when he finds himself giving in, stepping toward her because damn him if he really wants to know. He's waited his whole life for her.

If it really is her, he's glad that they met under these circumstances. If things were any different, it would have been inappropriate for him touch her. He's never been happier with his choice of profession than right now.

When he steps closer into her space, he finds himself not wanting to be an inch farther from her. For the rest of his life. She offers him her hand and he thanks the heavens that he was able to stop the gasp that was forming in his throat.

He examines the tattoo. It was exactly like his – two eagles, wings mid-flight and so in sync with each other. They seemed to move with every throb of her pulse. He was right. It was exactly like his own.

He's frustrated at the synthetic material that's separating their skin, but he doesn't show it. He feels the strong need to touch the delicate skin under the tattoo, to _really_ touch his soulmate. He's found her. But he's confused. Why would she want it removed?

"Where did you get this tattoo?" The room has been silent until he spoke. He knows that soulmate marks start appearing shortly after birth, but he feigns ignorance in an attempt to have a conversation with her.

"I've had it since I was little," she shrugs.

"So this is your..." he can't bring himself to say the words, not when he knows that he's removing the one thing that binds them together.

"My soulmate mark," she finishes his sentence for him and just hearing those words from her mouth made his heart sink. Why would she want to do this?

When he finally asks her, she says something about not liking being told what to do. He hated to admit it, but he completely understood. They might have been bound – and if he wanted to take a step further – destined to be together, but they still had free will.

He chooses to respect her decision. He realizes that deep down, in the long run, that choice would come with resentment. He never took enough chances. But surely she's felt the strange pull toward him, just as he has with her, right? Isn't that how one should feel when faced with their soulmate? Their bond is supposed to be like no other – unbreakable and inimitable.

"What happens if you meet your soulmate?" He looks at her, tests how she responds. He hopes that he doesn't look like he's begging her to take the hint. "What if they never believe you then?"

"I already have someone else," she smiles the smile he imagines he would also have if they were together. The smile of a person in love. "Why do you keep asking me these questions? Are you my soulmate?" she teases.

He is torn between letting her go and letting her know.

Phil Coulson never thought that his soulmate would ever break his heart, but he's found himself in the exact situation within thirty minutes of meeting her. Instead, he puts up his last line of defense – his humor. "Maybe I am," he shoots her back his best smile, the biggest one – the one that could hide the deepest hurt.

"Sorry to tell you this," she confesses, and he sees one corner of her mouth curve upward, as if to challenge him. "But I think my _someone else_ might be proposing," when she says it, his hand working from above hers turns to stone. "Better raise your game, Mr. Destiny," was she... flirting with him? Sexual or otherwise, he's beginning to like this banter.

"All kidding aside, though," his expression turns serious, but gentle. "What if they're still out there? What if they've been waiting to meet you? Don't you think it'll crush them to know that you're with someone else?" he pauses. "What if they never told you, but you've already met them?"

He realizes that he's prodding, maybe forcing himself inside her perfectly happy life without him. He sees her features soften, and for a moment she looked like she was hesitating, but then she surprises him as she reaches out to touch his hand, the one that was holding the device. He keeps still the whole moment, anticipating the contact, his heart pounding in his ears.

He manages to quip out another joke despite his own anxiousness. "I'd hate to see your soulmate like this little guy over here," he turns his attention to the now lonesome eagle, flying solo on her wrist.

"I'm sure they'll find someone else," she says it with a warm kind of conviction, somehow comforting him with this unconventional break-up. "And besides, I think I would know if I met my soulmate," her hand finally reaches the exposed spot underneath his lab coat, just above where his glove ends and his skin begins.

They both gasp at the contact, electricity seeming to pleasantly run through their entire bodies. They regard each other for a while. She looks more shocked at the incident than he does. Phil gazes up at her as if he's saying, "Yes, it's me," and she has the look of recognition on her face, much like a cross between accidentally finding buried treasure and discovering a trunk filled with lost memories in an old attic.

The air is heavy between them, and she gently takes the device away from his hand, putting it away to the side. She turns his hand so his palm would face her, carefully pulling his glove down. Slowly, the two eagles reveal themselves, dancing beneath his pounding pulse. His eyes flutter shut when she touches his wrist, still processing the sensation of finding and being found.

When he hears her breath hitch, he opens his eyes to find her shaking her head. This is why he didn't want to tell her in the first place. He doesn't want to have to make her choose. Her eyes are welling up and as much as he hated the loss of contact, he takes his hand away from hers to remove his glove completely.

Soon his skin meets hers again, only this time it was the thickness of his palm against the softness of her cheek. She leans against his touch like she's done it so many times before in so many different lifetimes.

"I've been waiting for you," he says it so softly that his voice breaks.

"I'm sorry," she breathes out.

"You don't have to leave him," he forces himself to say the words, even though he means the complete opposite. He wants her all for himself.

Her fingertips graze his mark again, and when he looks at her, she's biting her lip. He sees that she's warring with herself. When she finally gazes up at him, her dark eyes are searching his blue ones. His breath is taken away by the emotion in them; they were conveying something he knew she wouldn't be able to say out loud.

He conveys the same message through his smile, and she intertwines their fingers together. She lets out a deep breath and simultaneously, his body does the same without even thinking about it. They stay like that for a while until she stands, reaching to cradle his cheek in the same gentle way he did when he first examined her tattoo.

Before he knows it, she is standing on her tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss on his mouth. He didn't have time to kiss her back, because she pulled away as fast as she initiated it. He bites his lower lip in an attempt to mimic the short contact, because right now he wants to lose himself in her but he won't push.

He looks at her longingly, and she squeezes his hand one last time before she picks up her things and leaves. Just like the kiss, she leaves as quickly as she came, her presence immediately becoming a ghost he thinks would haunt him for his entire life.

For a moment he doubts what the kiss meant. Was it goodbye? Or was it a promise – a small taste of something that will grow into something more? She's broken the rules many times; who's to stop her from breaking her own? If she would let him, he would help her rewrite their destiny again in a heartbeat.

He stares after her as she walks out the door, and he remembers the single eagle left untouched on her wrist. Maybe it was a promise.

* * *

 **A/N: Do what you will with the ending. I was actually thinking of removing Andrew from this chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to throw his and Melinda's relationship pre-Bahrain. I just loved seeing her smiling and being happy. :) Don't get the wrong idea, because I will not hesitate to defend Philinda 'till my dying breath. 3 They're the real soulmates lol.**


End file.
